


A Beautiful Journey of Suffering - One - The Descent

by TheClassicalLolita



Series: A Beautiful Journey of Suffering [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Dystopia, F/M, Marvel Universe, Scarlet Witch - Freeform, The Avengers - Freeform, X-men - Freeform, maximoff twins, quicksilver - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClassicalLolita/pseuds/TheClassicalLolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a stranger begins visiting Iskra in the abandoned city she calls home, her world is shaken to its core. Questions begin to arise regarding the source of her strange abilities as well as her decision to isolate herself following the disaster that tore Iskra's family from her so many years prior. </p><p>**This is a work in progress and mostly unedited so please forgive any grammatical errors. I appreciate all comments, compliments and criticisms. I apologize if characters seem OOC or if historical/geographical references are incorrect. Thank you for reading!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Journey of Suffering - One - The Descent

From where she sat on the hotel roof, Iskra could see almost the entire ruined city. Half crumbled buildings littered the landscape. Nature had slowly reclaimed what was once hers. Years had passed since the disaster and the inhabitants had long gone, packed up their families and moved on. Hands covered mouths and the people feared the tiny aches that grew in their throats, feared the promise of radiation sickness. 

When the city was quiet, Iskra could almost hear the panicked screams replayed as a distant whisper. "The reactor, the reactor is going into meltdown." She shook her head, trying to dispel the waking nightmare. 

Stubbing out her stolen cigarette, she climbed down from the roof and tightened her boot laces. It was time to tend the gardens. Not much grew in the irradiated soil but what did grow, Iskra tended with silent adoration. She could hunt and kill with ease, but it felt somehow more like a gift when the soil offered up her treasures so willingly. 

"Peppers are growing nicely today," she said softly, trying out her tired voice. Sometimes she went days without speaking at all and nearly forgot the sound of her own words. Her throat felt raw, but not from a poisoned thyroid. No, Iskra was miraculously immune. A blessing and a curse, as she recalled once more the panicked screams of her neighbors. And her mother... 

Sighing, she collected rain water from a nearby basin and poured it tenderly over each plant. But as she watched the water fall, the wind picked up suddenly, blowing the stream off mark. 

She paused and turned, waiting for the breeze to hit her face but it didn't. Peculiar. 

Bending again to refill the container, a voice startled her. "Been here long?" It asked.

*Iskra spun on her heels, very nearly toppling over. She hadn't heard another person speak in likely over a year yet the words sounded strange when they shouldn't. They were spoken with a similar accent, but much deeper. 

"I said, have you been here long?" He repeated. Her eyes met his then scanned the rest of him. Black and gray track suit, sneakers, tousled but clean silver hair. There was no way he'd look so well put together if he lived in the city. And she would have known if she wasn't alone. 

"Who are you?" Her tone sounded more like a warning than a question. But she'd rather he see her as a threat than what she really was. Afraid. 

The skin on her hands felt dry and she resisted the urge to rub them together. The beds of her fingernails ached and dark spots were beginning to appear in her vision. Iskra took several steps back, crushing a pepper plant beneath her boot. 

This wasn't good. 

She could feel the molecules in her body heating up, rushing against one another furiously. Tiny dark sparks arced between her fingertips and she hoped for his sake that he didn't plan to stick around. 

But he just grinned a knowing smirk and chuckled.

"We are not so different, you know." And in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving nothing behind but a breeze. 

Iskra shut her eyes, breathing steadily and trying like hell to tell herself that it was all a hallucination. A side effect of the radiation, finally catching up to her after all this time. But she knew better. 

What she’d seen was real. Flesh and blood standing before her. Flesh and blood and… something else. 

“Not so different?” she asked the wind. It didn’t reply. Maybe it was the years spent alone in a city she watched fall to pieces, or maybe it was seeing someone appear and disappear right before her eyes, but she almost expected it to. 

***

Hours blur into days that blur into weeks and Iskra is alone. But she prefers it that way. When no one is around her, she can’t hurt them. And she’s significantly less likely to hurt herself. Life is more simple. All she needs to worry about is securing food and keeping warm. 

Deep inside the Polissya Hotel, Iskra is safe. The many rooms, long ago built to house the workers of the power plants, serve as a barrier between her and the world. Looters had come and taken most of what could be considered useful, but Iskra was industrious and over time, she’d accumulated everything she needed.

She had a bed, and a small wardrobe of clothes scavenged from the city. She had kindling for fire, pots and pans to cook. The only thing the hotel lacked was electricity. But Iskra had electricity in spades… 

Being alone was what was best for her. But in her heart, she was lonely. 

Which was what she was lamenting on the floor of the drained pool when she felt a breeze brush her cheeks. Iskra’s eyes shot open, just in time to watch the leaves by the edge of the pool rustle. Several of the large glass windows had been knocked out long ago, allowing vines and wildlife to creep in. She’d never minding sharing her space with nature until now. 

Shuddering, Iskra drew her torn shawl around her shoulders and watched the leaves settle. It must have just been a random gust of wind. Those were common this time of year. 

“What are you doing, dragă?” a familiar voice asked. It was the same man she’d seen before… however many days ago that was. “Is hard to swim with no water.” 

“I don’t want to swim,” she snapped, sitting up to get a better view of him, sitting on the edge of the pool. “I want to be alone.” 

“Why?” he cocked his head to the side and ran a hand through his silver hair. He was close enough that Iskra could tell the roots were much darker. He was close enough that she could fully appreciate how strikingly blue his eyes were… almost as light as her own. 

“Please just go...” She didn’t move. She didn’t dare allow a single molecule to shift, for fear of killing him before she could stop it. 

He laughed again, but the sound was distorted. He was gone again, just disappeared. A few hairs moved against her cheek and evidently, the breath she’d be holding onto was let out too soon. 

“Let me in,” he whispered, his lips nearly grazing her ear as he spoke. “You can’t hurt me, so let me in.”

Iskra choked as anger swelled in her. Her fingertips itched so she buried them in her sleeves. The familiar smell of ozone filled the air and words were not so easy to find. She wanted to turn and look at him, to yell at him that he didn’t understand, but she didn’t dare. So instead, she stared at her boots. 

“I can hurt you. I will hurt you,” she whimpered. A nearby puddle of water rippled with sparks blacker than pitch. “I don’t know who you are, but you have to go… Please.” 

“So naive,” he purred and stood, pulling Iskra to her feet along with him. The sudden physical contact sent her over the edge. 

Her eyes rolled back and the cement beneath their feet shook as atoms vibrated, the resulting static leaching through the pores of the surface and manifesting as great arms of electricity. They reached for the intruder hungrily, snapping and growling as they struck the ground. But somehow, he evaded them. In fact, he was moving so quickly that she could barely keep up. 

Half of her was praying for it to stop, hoping he had the intelligence to run or the constitution to ride out the storm. But the fury in her blood was seething. 

How dare he?  
A scream cut through the air, echoing off the walls and rattling what remained of the massive glass windows. Iskra wondered who the voice belonged to. She’d receded to a safe place in her mind. A place far enough away that she couldn’t recognize the shriek as her own. Not until the sound was abruptly cut off. 

The absence of mournful howling registered first, but the pressure against her lips brought her crashing back down to reality. Her vision came back into focus and Iskra realized with sudden clarity that he was holding her by the shoulders and… kissing her. 

The bolts of electricity fizzled out. The fury was gone. He pulled away, grinning. 

“There we go. I was starting to get tired,” he put a hand over his ribs and panted dramatically. The times before, he hadn’t disappeared. He’d been running. 

“What are you?” she looked him up and down, her lips still tingling from the reality check he’d given her. 

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” he straightened as he spoke, obviously proud of finally being given permission to introduce himself. Sort of… “I told you that you couldn’t hurt me. But it still hurts you.”

Iskra drew her hands from her pockets, flexing her fingers and wincing at the soreness in her joints. Pietro was right. It hurt when she tried to restrain the energy but it hurt worse when it finally took over. 

“You can control this, dragă.” His voice almost sounded sweet. But that was impossible. How could anyone be sweet to her? She was destruction incarnate. And he didn’t even know her!

“I am not your dragǎ,” she looked up at him, her voice stern but lacking conviction. 

“Of course not,” he laughed, leaning back to place a hand on his hip and meet her steel gaze. “You are Iskra Dimir.”

Thoughts rushed through her brain more quickly than she could decipher them. He knew who she was. He was altered, like her. And he obviously must have sought her out. There was no way that anyone knew of her location. Most of the people who even knew of her existence were long dead. But there was no sense in asking questions that she didn't want to know the answers to. If someone from the city had survived the disaster, their exist must be terrible. 

"I can't go with you," she told him plainly. It was too dangerous to leave. Pripyat was safe. Pripyat was home. 

"Then I will have to keep coming to you," Pietro's smile faded. "I will return. Tomorrow at noon." 

Before Iskra could argue, he was gone, leaving nothing but a blur and a gust of wind in his wake. She sunk to her knees once again, staring up at the crumbling ceiling and wondering why. Why her? If he sought to save her from herself, it was already much too late. 

***

Dawn broke and for once, Iskra dreaded climbing out from under her tattered blankets and greeting the day. She wanted to go back to sleep and forget the possibilities that noon could bring. Of course Pietro could have been lying. In fact, he was almost definitely lying. No one in their right mind would return for her. 

But the possibility that he might was enough to make her choose a deep purple skirt over more practical pants. The least she could do was look presentable. Noon was a long way away though and the vegetables needed to be watered. And if he didn't come, she'd swallow the disappointment and head into the city for supplies.

Iskra didn't want to admit to herself that she would be disappointed if he didn't come back. The idea of having someone to talk to was beginning to grow on her. Even if he was cocky and a bit arrogant.

She’d always considered that there were others like her, but she never thought she’d meet them. Her ‘powers’ were blamed on the radiation but the truth was, she wasn’t right even before the reactors went up. It had somehow made her impervious to the effects of the poison though.

After caring for the garden and making her rounds through the outskirts of the city feeding abandoned pets turned feral, Iskra sat beneath the massive oak tree near the entrance of the hotel. It created wonderful shade from the hot summer sun and the sound of the leaves dancing in the wind calmed her. She pulled a book from her bag and opened to the place she’d left off. 

Written in her native tongue, the book told a story of gypsy romance and searching for belonging. She’d read it several times before but it was one of her favorites. After all, there was no one around to poke fun at her for reading cheesy novels. 

The sun was high in the sky and Iskra was immersed in her story, completely oblivious to the position of the shade cast by the tree. Time had a way of slipping away when the days blurred together and hours lost their meaning. 

Which was why she didn’t notice the breeze caused by Pietro running up behind her. 

“Must be nice, reading all day,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her. Iskra nearly leapt out of her skin anyway, slamming her book shut and scrambling to stand up.

“Aproape mi-a dat un atac de cord , Pietro!” she shouted, forgetting herself and reverting back to Romanian. He laughed so she punched his shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back. But the grin on his lips didn’t waver. In fact, it spread. 

“Don’t be dramatic, I’m sure your heart is fine,” his eyes widened for a moment when she shoved him, obviously surprised at being caught off guard. “So did you miss me?”

Iskra’s pulse was pounding in her throat and she had to brace herself against the tree to keep from passing out. Living off of irradiated vegetables wasn’t exactly doing wonders for her body. She was surviving yes, but not thriving. 

I didn’t think you’d come back.

How could I miss you, I don’t know you…

But that smile…

...And yes...

“So what do you want with me?” She scoffed, pulling her long hair over her shoulder to let the air hit the back of her neck. It clung to her collarbones and she hoped the dark plum dye didn’t stain her skin. 

Pietro just looked at her for a moment, then sat down in the grass beside her bag. When she didn’t immediately follow suit, he looked over his shoulder at her and patted the ground to his right. “Sit, we have much to talk about.” 

She obeyed, the curiosity eating her alive. Pulling her knees to her chest, her fingers played in the long blades of grass, twirling them around and periodically tearing them out of the soil. It felt like an eternity spent waiting for him to speak again, and when he didn’t, Iskra stole a glance at him. 

He was leaned back, eyes open, looking to the sky. The shadow of hair on his jaw making it look somehow sharper, his eyes bluer. It was interesting to watch him stand still… he seemed almost peaceful.

Are you going to fucking speak, mǎgar?

Pietro’s eyes met hers and she looked away.  
“Cut that out, dragǎ.” His words were sugary sweet and softer than fine linen. “I am not so intimidating. I only want to help you.”

“How?” Her voice burned like acid in her mouth. 

“To show you that you’re not alone,” he placed a hand over hers where it rested in the grass. This time, no tiny sparks sprang to life but the touch made her heart beat faster. “There are others like us. And you can control it. I know a girl… she can move things with her mind and make people see things. She had not so good time learning. When she was small they called her a moroi, I’m sorry, the English… a demon.” 

Iskra heard hurt in his voice. She kept her eyes cast down, flitting back and forth between her ragged boots and his sneakers. She knew what a moroi was. “What happened to her?” 

“Someone who loved her looked over her. It was what she needed, yeah?” His fingers folded over the top of her hand, holding it. “She is okay now. He protects her. But sometimes, she has to protect him too. So is alright. This thing… is a part of us. If you fight it, it fights back. But if you accept it, learn to exist beside it, is not so bad.”

“So where is she now?” Iskra looked up finally, expecting Pietro to look sad but he didn’t. 

“Far away from here. But maybe one day, if you want to leave this place, you can meet her,” he gave her hand a tiny squeeze. “You would get along. There are not many of us so we need to stick together. There is strengths in numbers, Iskra. This is why I come.”

“Okay, but… I’m not ready to leave…” she protested softly. 

“Is okay. One day,” he moved his hand away and she nearly grasped after it. But he’d only moved so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Imagine a life where you are not haunted by the ghosts of your past. I’ll help you see that this thing inside you does not own you.”

She smiled, for the first time in awhile. Being around others like her? That didn’t sound so bad. It sounded quite nice actually. Not unlike the feeling of his strong arm across her back. She leaned into him slightly, not wanting to give the wrong impression. He was still a stranger, after all and the last thing she wanted to come off as was desperate. 

“How did you find me?” Iskra asked after several long moments of silence had passed. She’d been distracted by the rise and fall of his breath against her side and his intense warmth. 

“I have my ways,” he shrugged simply. “I say, let’s not waste the day, but this is nice so I think we should stay a bit longer.” 

Iskra turned to ask what he was talking about but before she could open her mouth to speak, he’d pulled her down to lay in the grass with him. At first, she froze, but he shuffled beneath her so that her head rested against his shoulder. She let out a sigh, resigning herself to the strange kinship unfurling before her. 

The blue sky peeked out from between the oak leaves above them and Iskra moved ever so slightly closer, turning her face towards the soft fabric of his jacket. He smelled like clean laundry and musky cologne, two fragrances she hadn’t experienced in years. And it actually felt good to, for just a moment, not be afraid.

He was right, it was nice.

***

“Again!” Pietro shouted from the ground and Iskra rolled her eyes. 

They’d gone over the same drill at least a dozen times and Iskra was showing marked improvement. She worried that if her attacks were any more accurate, that she might actually hit him. The gravel was littered with scorch marks and the air smelled heavy and humid from the amount of electricity lingering in the air. 

“Your hair looks ridiculous!” Iskra shouted down from the roof top of the hotel. Pietro rolled his eyes and ran a hand through the silver strands, trying to smooth away the static making them stand on end. 

“I said again!” he barked and began pacing back and forth, picking up speed until he was nothing but a blue blur. 

“But I’m tired!” she whined, stamping her feet against the cracked shingles childishly. 

The blur stopped suddenly and a very annoyed looking Romanian man glared up at her. “Good!” he threw his arms up, trying to antagonize her. “You have to be in control even when you are tired, dragǎ!”

Iskra clenched her fist and a void black branch of lightning struck the ground beside him. The pet name annoyed her more than running the same stupid drills over and over. She’d never given him permission to call her that. And yet he just… kept doing it. 

Pietro laughed, disappearing into a streak of colored movement, darting to and fro to avoid the bolts that pounded the ground around him. 

Sure, Iskra was annoyed, but she wasn’t truly pissed off. Controlling her power when she wasn’t seeing red was easy. She worried more for the times that she felt threatened and scared. The drills felt like child’s play, lazily chasing a speeding bullet with a barrage of energy. 

But the images before her were growing hazy and before long, she had to stop and sit down. No sooner had she tucked her head between her knees, there was a hand on her back, pulling her into strong arms. She opened her eyes and began to panic when she realized that her vision had narrowed to a pinhole. Her fingers made contact with what might have been his face or neck as she fought to stay conscious. 

“Shhh, shhh,” Pietro rocked her gently, pressing his cheek against hers and whispering in her ear. “Is okay. Enough for today.” 

“I told you I wanted to stop!” she whimpered. The fight had left her and she just went limp, letting him hold her. 

“I know. I’m… sorry.” It sounded as though apologies were not easy for him. “You are weak. Not enough to eat?”

Iskra didn’t reply. That took energy that she didn’t have. She let her eyelids fall shut, letting the darkness engulf her for just a moment. She felt him lifting her up but when came to her senses again, her surroundings had changed. He was setting her down on the small tattered sofa in her hotel room turned apartment. Iskra just looked up at him. 

“Stay here and rest. I will get you something to eat,” he nodded once and was gone. 

She reclined into the soft cushions and breathed deep, already feeling better. Her power took a lot out of her and it wasn’t uncommon to pass out from it, even when she was well fed. Especially grandiose displays of lightning as opposed to the small amount of energy needed to boil water or start a fire. Maybe Pietro was gathering vegetables from outside. That sounded pleasant. Iskra had forgotten to stop for lunch which probably meant Pietro was starving considering the amount of calories he must burn moving so quickly.

Which made his hasty reappearance in her room even more unsuspected. “That was quick. Is… is that pizza?!” her eyes fell to the cardboard boxes in his hands. “Where the hell did you get those?”

“Mazyr,” he smiled, setting the boxes down on the coffee table and joining her on the couch. He handed her a slice. “I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I just got-”

“Mazyr as in Mazyr, Belarus?!” Iskra looked from his face to the pizza and back again. “But that’s 100 km from here, and you weren’t even gone five minutes!”

“It would have taken even longer but they had some already cooked,” he mumbled through greedy bites. “Sorry, dragǎ.”

Iskra just shook her head and nibbled the food tentatively, but it was delicious and before she’d realized it, she’d had three slices. Pietro tried to offer her more, but she declined. Her stomach wasn’t used to the heavy starches and cheese and it was making her a bit queasy. 

“I will come at noon again tomorrow,” he told her. It wasn’t a question. 

“Alright,” she sighed, kicking her boots off under the table. 

“What is the matter?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and setting his half eaten slice of pizza back in the box. “I upset you?”

“No, it’s just…” she paused. She should be thankful. He was helping her, even after she tried to push him away. He had no obligation to her, yet he chose to stick around. And bring her food. “Maybe I have no right to, but I just wish you’d stay a little longer…”

Pietro chuckled, wasting no time before flopping down onto his side behind her. With one arm, he pulled her to lay down in front of him, holding her so that her back pressed firmly against his body. She twisted to look up at him, planning to thank him or maybe tell him that she really didn’t want to be alone anymore, now that she knew how it felt not to be. But before she had the opportunity, he kissed her forehead tenderly. 

“I can stay a little while,” he told her softly. “I will be gone when you wake though. But I will come back.”

“Okay,” Iskra said simply, blindsided by all the sudden affection. She didn’t ask why he had to go, but it didn’t really matter. Not yet at least. She would never ask anyone to stay in this post apocalyptic wasteland with her. No, her kingdom of ruin was hers and hers alone. She closed her eyes, settling against a pillow propped against his arm. 

Just before she drifted off to sleep, she heard him whisper, “I will always come back.”

***

Maybe it was sleeping through the night with a full stomach, or maybe it was the rain that pounded the brick of the hotel walls, but Iskra couldn’t summon the energy to move when she woke up. Still on the sofa, she rolled onto her back and stretched her legs out as far as she could. There was a kink in her back from having slept in such a strange position for so long, but apparently Pietro had covered her with a blanket before he’d left. Iskra pulled it up to her chin, his smell still lingering in the fabric.  
She hadn’t woken up when he’d left. Or if she had, she didn’t remember it. 

When she did finally sit up, it was only for a better view of the storm outside the window. The rain was coming down in heavy sheets. Maybe Pietro wouldn’t come today. The weather was pretty awful…

But it did mean that the plants didn’t need to be watered and the animals of the city had likely hunkered down for the time being. Any food she left out for them today would only be washed away. Even after all these years, the dogs and cats were wary and unwilling to approach her. She understood that sentiment. Being abandoned and forgotten had a way of making a soul distrustful of others. 

Which was why, for the second time, Iskra didn’t expect Pietro to return. He said he would, but how many times had she heard that before? Enough to take the words with a grain of salt. 

As she washed her hair in the bathroom sink with coppery red water, she thought about how she’d feel if he did come. What would it mean? He said he wanted to help her but there was a rather large gap between visiting someone when the weather was clear and braving a thunderstorm. Especially one she hadn’t even created. 

Iskra wrang her hair out and washed her face. The water from the tap was by no means clean but it got the job done. It took several generators and a fair amount of her own power to even bring the liquid up from the pipes. 

Her reflection in the shattered mirror over the sink looked a little bit less sad today, but in the place of sadness was something new. She looked lost. Unprepared. Iskra thought she had her existence figured out but Pietro had blown a hole in her plans just like the steam had blown a hole in the reactor. The results of the fallout were yet to be determined. 

She tugged at her cheeks, checking for the telltale redness of radiation sickness. But today, like every day before it, there were none. It really wasn’t safe for anyone to visit her here. Granted, she was a fair distance from the plant but the hotel was well within the exclusion zone and if Pietro kept coming, he’d likely become ill. 

It would start with redness and itching but over time, skin could become thinner, veins tight and sluggish. And eventually, the thyroid would succumb to cancer as cells replicated exponentially. 

Unless he was immune to it, like her. 

Iskra covered her eyes with her hands and counted to ten. She prayed that when she looked at the mirror once more, someone else would be looking back. Someone strong and vibrant, full of life. 

But today, like every day before it, only the ghost of a woman peered back at her.

She dressed in a knee length gray dress and hole pocked green leggings. The dress was completely impractical for hunting and gathering but since the weather had ruined any chance of doing either, Iskra figured she may as well be comfortable. 

When she exited the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of someone leaning against the kitchenette counter, dripping water onto the already stained carpet. A small smile crept across her lips. 

“Is it noon already?” she asked softly.

“Past noon,” Pietro’s eyes fell to her legs and suddenly, Iskra felt self conscious. “Were you going to stay inside all day?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, drǎgut, but it’s raining rather hard,” she quipped. He was soaked and she was surprised that he wasn’t shivering. “Did you bring change of clothes?”

“Hmm…” He seemed to consider the question, looking down at his wet clothes and shoes rather than at her. “Nu.” 

Had he not noticed until she said something about it?

“You’ll catch your death soaking wet like that,” Iskra shook her head in disbelief and he just laughed, unzipping his track jacket and draping it over a broken chair. His bare skin glistened with moisture and she looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring. It was just that… his muscles were so defined.

“Funny thing about me,” he spoke with his back turned, unlacing his shoes and setting them aside. “I do not so much get cold. Fast metabolism and all.”

Alright, that did make sense. What didn’t make sense was why he was so comfortable just taking his clothes off in her sorry excuse for a home. His hands fell to his waist, starting to undo the button of his pants. Iskra turned away, blushing.

“You can wring your pants out in the bathroom!” her voice cracked and she heard him laugh again. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled, moving past her painfully slow. For once. 

She sat on the sofa, nervously folding the blanket. He was toying with her on purpose. She was sure of it, just not why. 

When Pietro reemerged, his pants appeared at least slightly dryer. He sat down beside her. “Today is not a good day to play with lightning, I think,” he said, looking from Iskra to the window and back again. 

“I should think not,” she turned towards the window as well. The rain had let up a bit, but not much. “Forgive me for being forward, Pietro, but where is your home?”

“I’ll show you when you’re ready to leave,” he told her simply. It wasn’t the explanation she’d been expecting but she didn’t want to push the subject. 

Iskra turned to ask him what he wanted to do, since they couldn’t really go outside and whether he felt at all ill from the exposure to the radiation. But her thoughts got cut short as his hand grasped her wrist, pulling her toward him. Her reflex was to struggle but he was strong and the action swift. His lips claimed hers before she could open them to speak. 

Iskra’s spine went rigid, then relaxed as her body accepted that she was not being attacked. Well, not violently. Her eyes closed when his fingers swept her hair from her face, lingering at the back of her neck and making her shudder slightly. 

Why. Why?

What are you doing to me?

It made no sense, why he’d taken such a liking to her. But she kissed him back. Timidly at first but the way he moved his tongue made her melt and within moments, she’d leaned much closer to him. Her hands cradled his face, tracing his jaw with her fingertips. Pietro pulled away and she followed, begging him for more with swollen lips and hungry eyes. 

“Forgive me for being so forward,” he smirked devilishly, fingers still playing in her hair and making her melt. 

Iskra returned the grin and closed the gap between them once more. This time there was nothing timid about the way she kissed him. His teeth nipped her lower lip and a tiny animalistic moan poured out of her. Her hand fell from his face to rest against his chest for a moment before she broke the contact. 

There was a long moment of silence where no one spoke. The only sounds were the rain hitting the window and their own breathing. But Iskra didn’t look away. This time she searched his face for any inclination as to what just happened. Her actions made sense. She’d been lonely for so long, but Pietro instigated this and… why waste his time on her?

“You didn’t see that coming?” he asked her, breaking the silence.  
Iskra shook her head. “I… did not,” she sounded even more confused than she felt. Slipping from the sofa, she crossed the room into the kitchen and pulled on a cabinet handle. She didn’t turn to see if Pietro was watching her. At first, the rusty hinges wouldn’t give but with a solid yank, they gave in and Iskra wrapped her fingers around the neck of the only thing that could possibly shed any light on the situation. 

Lifting the bottle of vodka so that he could see it over the counter, her eyes met his. “You want a glass?”

“Ha! Of course not,” his expression softened and she realized he must have been watching her rather intently. He sat back, reclining against the couch cushions. 

“A man after my own heart,” Iskra laughed and unscrewed the cap, taking a long swig of the clear liquid on her way back to the living area. A rainy, emotionally confusing day seemed to be a good use of the vodka she’d been hoarding for months. It was of fairly decent stock too, pillaged from a dusty Pripyat shop on one of her supply runs. 

She handed him the bottle, her mouth and throat still burning from the alcohol. Questions fluttered through her head, demanding to be asked despite a resounding lack of the right words. So she folded her legs beneath her and drank from the bottle again when he handed it back. Heat rushed to her cheeks and Iskra was reminded just how long it had been since she’d last drank. 

“Why you come, today, if we can’t work on my powers?” she asked, passing the vodka. It was a good place to start. Just disregard the kiss and the white hot desire she felt spring to life in her. 

“Oh, is this a drinking game? You ask me a question, I ask you a question?” he was positively beaming. “I’m in.”

“That’s not a game, idiot,” Iskra couldn’t stifle her giggles. “If it were, there would have to be some way to lose. And when you lose, you drink.” 

“Drinking is a punishment? That does not sound right,” he stroked the hair on his chin dramatically, pondering. “How about we drink every time we answer a question. Liquid courage.”

“Fine. Answer my question and drink,” she pushed the bottle at him, leaning back and listening. 

“I come because I told you I would,” he sipped from the bottle, licking excess liquid from his lips. “And because I like you.” He touched her cheek softly, punctuating his words.

Iskra’s cheeks flushed pinker. “Okay now you ask.” 

“Alright, hmm…” long fingers circled the mouth of the bottle while he thought of a suitable question. “Why do you stay here? You’re Roma, no?”

“That’s two questions, technically.” She took the vodka, tilting it back and letting it coat her throat. “It should be obvious. I stay here because no one else does. I hurt someone… a few someones. So I thought it would be best to be around no one.”

The alcohol was making her painfully honest which could become dangerous in a myriad of different ways. “Your turn. Why… do you like me?”

Pietro raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was serious. “That answer is not so easy to put into words,” he took the bottle from her, taking a long drink then setting it on the rickety coffee table and turning to face her. “So I try to show you.”

“You have lovely eyes,” he traced her cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Very cute,” he leaned in to press his lips against the tip of her nose.

“Sweet lips,” he kissed her quickly and lightly.

“Obviously a badass,” fingers rubbed the shaved side of her head then combed through the long purple tresses. 

“And you’re like me. Which is why I come see you the first time,” he looked her in the eyes but his hand moved to her chest, touching her sternum. “But I keep coming back because of what’s here. You’re strong and beautiful, Iskra. You think you’re weak but I think I know better. You don’t take shit. And I like that.”

She smiled. His little speech had warmed her heart more than the vodka had and she wanted so badly to climb into his lap and wrap her arms around her neck. But instead, Isrka took the bottle from the table and held it tight to her body. 

“Now you, dragǎ,” he nodded towards the liquor. “Do you trust me?”

Iskra didn’t understand. She was becoming progressively more tipsy and his words made no sense. “Is that your question or a preface to your actual question?”

Pietro chuckled. “‘S both!” his accent was getting thicker each time he took a swig from the bottle. 

“Um. Then… yes. I ‘spose I trust you. I’ve no reason not to,” she took a drink anyway, the rules of their game starting to lose meaning. 

“Good. Will you let me take you outside Pripyat?” he asked, clarity washing over his expression for a moment. “No place busy. Just baby step. Maybe a cafe.”

She wanted to say no but the look he was giving her made her pause. The truth was that she did trust him. “Fine. You’ll get sick if you spend too much time here anyway… and I… I’d like to keep seeing you.”

“I can’t get sick from the radiation, Iskra,” he took the bottle from her once more, draining the rest of the contents. “But even if I could, I would come anyway.” 

“Pietro…” His statement made a huge impact. He’d risk his health to see her? It was absurd yet so kind. The room had begun to tilt ever so slightly but Iskra pushed herself off the cushion enough to drape her arms around his shoulders. 

“Yes?” he scooped up her tiny frame, pulling her into his lap so that she faced him. If her skirt were any shorter, she’d have been in trouble. 

“Nothing… just…” her sentence trailed off. There was no way she could describe what she was feeling, vodka or not. So she buried her face in the valley between his neck and shoulder and kissed his collarbone. “Why do you keep kissing me?”

“We still playing? Vodka’s gone,” his hands trailed up her legs slowly, sending shivers down her spine. They stopped on her hips, thumbs rubbing tiny circles in the fabric of her dress. “It calms you. And it’s fun.” 

Iskra looked up at him. His cheeks were just as red as hers, eyes half lidded with what appeared to be desire. They were both drunk and quickly sinking into uncharted territory but neither seemed to have any plans of stopping.

“Lots of other things’r fun too,” she purred, her own accent creeping into her words. 

“Hmm?” In an incredibly quick movement, one of his hands disappeared into her hair while the other pulled her waist against his own. The amount of warmth his body was creating was intense, most likely a result of the alcohol as well as his heightened metabolism and sexual arousal. The latter was becoming incredibly apparent in other ways. 

“Like what?” he asked, lips hovering over hers. 

“Oh I can think of a few-” she began but was cut off as he caught her lips in a far more intense kiss than the ones they’d shared before. Her hips rolled against him involuntarily. He replied with a short gasp and his grip on her hair tightened. Iskra broke the kiss to breathe, back straightening and body pressed tight against his chest.

“Tell me t’ go and I will,” he whispered against her throat and shifted uncomfortably beneath her. “Cuz fuck, dragǎ mea…”

“Huh? Why would you go?” Iskra’s eyes were shut, heartbeat fluttering rapidly beneath the thin skin of her neck. Her fingers knotted in his silver hair, pulling his head back rather forcefully and eliciting another gasp as his back arched. 

“...Want you so bad,” his voice was husky and almost pleading.

“Then have me.” No sooner had she spoken than his arms were around her waist, carrying her into the bedroom more quickly than she thought a living thing could move. He set her down on the bed and lifted her dress over her head, a hand rushing up to cradle her breasts as the other fumbled clumsily with his pants. 

“Pietro, slow down,” Iskra laughed, undoing his pants for him. “Just a bit.”

He looked at her hands then at her face and took a deep breath. As she laid back against the pillows, she pulled him down on top of her, kissing his lips then his neck. “But don’t stop,” she added, tugging his pants down as she wrapped a leg around his.

Pietro moaned, kissing her hard and sliding a hand between her legs to remove her panties. It was the last scrap of fabric between them and he’d had quite enough of anything preventing him from touching all of her. He nipped at her shoulder playfully, constantly reminding himself to slow down. It wasn’t usually so difficult. Letting her take control, he reveled in the sensation of her touch trailing down his side then grasping his cock and guiding it to her entrance. 

“Please,” Iskra begged, whimpering. He was more than willing to comply and gently pushed himself into her. She gasped, digging her nails into his bare shoulders and calling out his name. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to fuck you through this mattress, dragǎ mea?” he asked, sliding his arms under her to hold her tight to him while he rocked his hips into her, over and over again. 

“I appreciate your efforts,” she breathed. The pet name had grown on her as had it’s possessive connotation. But speaking meant she had to stop kissing him, which was wholly unacceptable. Especially as he found a rhythm, each stroke stimulating her deeper than the one before it. Her hands fell from his shoulders to simultaneously grasp the sheet beneath her as well as the back of his neck. 

But Pietro was struggling to keep a reasonable pace, so he rolled her over, repositioning her to be on top of him. He held her hips, guiding her up and down and smiling at the tiny shivers than ran through her. 

“Much better,” he sighed, leaning his head against the pillows. “Now I can see your beautiful face and not worry so much that I hurt you.”

Iskra leaned down to kiss him as well as revel in his warmth. “Pietro, I…” she moaned as a particularly large bolt of lightning struck a tree somewhere nearby. 

“I know,” his body jerked, startled at that crash. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied, he’d be proud of her ability to affect the environment like that. But they were both close to climax, and that took precedence over pride. “Me too.” 

Iskra closed her eyes, bracing herself against his chest while she rode him harder, every muscle in her body screaming for release. But it wasn’t until he called out her name, sweating and panting beneath her, that her orgasm finally peaked. She knew she was speaking in Romanian, but she didn’t know what she was saying. Something about ancient gods and gypsy spells in their favor. 

Pietro grasped her by the hair, yanking her down to claim her mouth as he came, his hips twitching sporadically sending more waves of pleasure crashing through her. 

“Fuck!” she shouted, nearly collapsing against him. He laughed, clutching her to him as he rolled onto his side, covering her in kisses. 

“Te iubesc,” he whispered, pulling the sheet up to cover them both. She looked up at him, but his eyes were closed, sleepy from the vodka and physical exertion. 

“You’re drunk. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” she sighed, reaching up to brush his sweat soaked hair out of his face. He smiled at the touch, catching her hand in his own and lacing his fingers between hers. 

“So what if I’m drunk. ‘S true,” he sighed as though speaking was a great effort. 

“If it’s still true when you’re sober…” Iskra began. 

“It will be,” he finished. “Sleep for a bit, dragǎ mea. Maybe the rain will stop.”

She lacked the energy to protest so she closed her heavy eyes, snuggling close against his warm body. Resting for a few hours sounded nice. Especially folded in the arms of someone who called her darling. 

***

The warmth resting on her stomach shifted and Iskra’s eyes opened slowly. Her hand caught his, preventing him from moving it away. It had served as a source of heat and comfort the past few hours and she wasn’t quite ready to let it slip away. 

But the sun had come out, peeking out from behind the heavy grey clouds still lingering in the sky. The light shone through the window, but it was now late in the afternoon, casting the room in shades of pink and red.

“ ‘Have to go…” Pietro’s voice was still hoarse with sleep. He rolled away from her, stretching the kinks out of his joints. She turned to face him. 

“What?” she wasn’t entirely awake yet but something seemed wrong. 

Between the half remembered fragments of her dreams and Pietro’s strange behavior, Iskra was convinced that something in the air had shifted. “You’re leaving?”

He grumbled, running his hands through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his pants on. His shoulders were hunched, body language guarded. She reached out to touch his back but didn’t quite make it. Her hand fell back to the sheets. Iskra didn’t understand. Did he regret what had happened? Or worse, did he regret what he’d said when he was drunk? She’d said she trusted him. Was it a mistake?

“I see what’s happening...” her voice was almost inaudible but he’d heard. His head dropped into his hands, elbows propped against his knees. 

“Nu, you really don’t,” he snapped, standing and shuffling into the living room. Iskra scrambled to follow him, the tattered sheet wrapped around her naked frame. 

“I think I do, Pietro,” she choked, trying to sound venomous but just sounding hurt. “You shouldn’t say what you don’t mean when you’re drunk.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, spinning on his heels to stare daggers at her. His pants were still unbuttoned and he hadn’t yet made it to where his jacket still hung over the chair. Brows furrowed and jaw tight, Iskra thought for sure he was going to yell at her. She should have just let him go and said nothing. 

“You have NO idea, Iskra,” he said sternly, like a parent scolding a child. She pulled the sheet around her more tightly. “I get it. You live alone in this shit hole too long. Don’t you know other people exist? I can’t stay here with you forever. What you want from me? Storybook life with dog and white fence? Sorry dragǎ mea, the dogs here are sick with rabies and all the houses turned to ash years ago.”

“Pietro, I…” she trailed off, not sure how to respond. Tears welled in her eyes and she felt so incredibly stupid. Her thoughts flashed back to him holding her, telling her that she was beautiful, telling her he chose to be here… and that he loved her. That man was not the one that stood before her now, practically vibrating with anxiety.

He sighed, rolling his ice blue eyes and approaching her once again. But she recoiled from his touch, looking away. He was worlds faster than her though and he caught her shoulders, holding on tight. 

“I still mean everything I said earlier. All of it,” his tone was much softer. He realized he’d hurt her, but he couldn’t explain himself, not yet. There was still so much to protect. But he could have been a bit less vicious. The tears in her eyes spilled over, rolling down her cheeks in rivulets. “I’m sorry. But I have hot head. I am not so nice sometimes. I should not have…”

A tiny sob escaped her and Pietro whimpered weakly, pulling her into his arms. “Fuck,” he muttered, wondering how badly he had broken the fragile thing he’d just so recently acquired. 

“Si eu te iubesc,” was all she said, voice shaking like a leaf. She should have let him go and saved herself the embarrassment. 

“Please don’t cry. I will try to be good to you,” Pietro rested his forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose. But Iskra made no motion to look at him. “Forgive me?”

She nodded slightly. “...you have to go?”

His body shifted but still held onto her. “Yes. I have a home and I have to go back there. But I can’t leave you with tears in your eyes.” 

“If that’s what it takes, then I will cry forever,” Iskra smiled, kissing his lips quickly but sweetly. 

Pietro laughed, scooping her up and carrying her back to the bedroom. He didn’t use his speed though. He may not have all the time in the world, but he could pretend he did. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah? Can’t have you sexy thing distracting me if we’re going to talk about feelings.”

Iskra blushed, letting the sheet drop when he set her down but dressing quickly in an old tank top and torn jeans. “Are you coming back again tomorrow at noon?” she asked.

“Of course,” he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Will you take me to the cafe tomorrow?” Iskra wasn’t exactly ready but she’d never be if she didn’t try. And while Pietro had spoken out of frustration, he was right. She couldn’t hide among the ruined homes and rabid animals forever. That day may as well be sooner rather than later, before he really did get sick of visiting her in Pripyat.

“If that is what you desire, then yes,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed again. “But only after you work on controlling your energy better. Several hours should tire you out enough that you’d not be dangerous. Do you even remember how you came to be this way? Did you always live in Pripyat?”

Iskra sat as well, not too close. She’s seen a new side of him and it wasn’t one she wanted to experience again, let alone so soon. Never before had her little world seemed so small. Logically, Iskra knew that there were other cities, some she’d even seen with her own eyes before the burden of her own existence became too much. But it was easy to forget all that after years off seeing only her own reflection, hearing only her own voice. 

Reality seemed to melt away, leaving only the warning that anyone who got too close would get hurt. When she cried, the static in the room made her hair stand on end and when she was angry… 

Then Pietro appeared in a blue blur and shook everything she knew to be right to the ground. Her ideals laid in the Pripyat rubble, blown to pieces and soaking up the radiation. 

It was much easier to imagine the rest of the planet when one of its inhabitants stood before her, smirking devilishly and dressed in a track suit. Iskra had never considered the possibility that and outsider could accept her, let alone love her. It made it easier to entertain the thought that there could be a place for her, with living things that didn’t run from her out stretched hand. 

“Iskra? Did you hear me?” Pietro cocked his head to try to get her attention and dispel the starry look in her eyes. 

“Yes,” she shook the cobwebs loose, offering him a smile that he must know wasn’t genuine. “I don’t remember a lot. My mother’s name was Natalia and she was a Roma gypsy. She told me she found me when I was a baby after some building had been destroyed in Bucharest. So she took me in and raised me as her own in her caravan. I think it kind of grew in me, you know? It was sleeping for a long time, waiting until I was big enough. 

And then one day, I was outside playing with the other children. A boy pushed me down and before I even knew what was happening, this dark thing shot out of me and struck him. I watched it happen. I knew it was me, and I think Mamma did too but she told the boys mother that he was struck by lightning. There were whispers… they said the day was clear, no clouds in the sky. So how could it be lightning? Mamma stuck by her word though, she protected me. 

But after that day, Mamma… she looked at me different. Like she was afraid. She didn’t see me hurt that boy, but she knew. I guess she could feel it. I was hers and I think a mother can feel when something has shifted in their babies, even if I was born from destruction and not her womb. So I stayed inside mostly, until the caravan came through Pripyat. They tossed us out, Pietro. They told Mamma I was a freak and I’d bring bad luck on them. They left us here saying we were lucky they didn’t curse us too. 

Mamma got a job at the plant, and she got us a little apartment and we were surviving. Until the day the reactor blew. I heard the explosion all the way from our home and saw the smoke billowing in the sky. I watched the people running, rags over their mouths gagging on the air. I waited for Mamma to come home and take me away, maybe find another caravan in a new town, but she didn’t come.

I waited for weeks. Eventually, everyone had left. At first, a lot of people died. They were in the streets, on wagons, their families pulling them behind them as they left the city on foot. And I would watch from the window, each time I saw a woman with dark curly hair, I’d get so happy! I’d spin in circles singing that Mamma had come home to me! The air crackled with electricity. But they’d keep walking, passing the apartment building and disappearing down the road and the crackling turned into arcs of anger, breaking holes in the walls. 

So eventually, I left too. And it… it didn’t go so good, Pietro. So I came back here, where it was safe and I couldn’t hurt anyone. And now you’re here and I’m afraid all over again. But now I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me.”

Pietro hadn’t made a sound while she spoke, he just watched her. Hands clenching and unclenching. When he spoke, his voice was a raspy whisper. “Why do you think I would ever hurt you?”

“Not physically. But you see,” she held her hands out, palms up, staring at the lines that creased them. “I am so much weaker than you think. And the way I feel… You hold a great power to destroy me.”

“But I won’t!” he sounded so sure. How could he be?

“Drǎgut, it already hurts me to watch you leave at night and I’ve barely known you a week,” Iskra shrugged, half laughing. “I told you I love you. You know how crazy that is? You know how much you’ve changed me already?”

“How?” he asked, placing a hand in her still outturned palms. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to be alone anymore. You’ve given me a taste of what exists outside Pripyat and I’m finished hiding,” her fingers traced his life line. It was long and winding, but she could tell that without looking at his palms. “So what… if one day, you get sick of coming here to see me? I can’t risk that. When I learn to control myself, I want to go. If you’ll take me. I want a life again.” 

“I will take you, dragӑ mea. I will take you anywhere you want. You ever have cheesecake? Well you probably have, but it got better,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood and erase all the dark clouds he’d invited to hover over her. “They make all kinds now. And you can try them all if you want to!”

Iskra grinned but she knew their time together was drawing to a close. “I’d love to try your crazy cheesecakes. But if you don’t leave soon, you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

“You’re right,” Pietro sighed, kissing her lips and drawing her into his arms briefly before standing. “I should go. I will see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Pietro?” Iskra called after him, following him through the hotel suite. “Can I see your home one day?”

“Of course you can,” he told her while he slipped his arms into his jacket. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as he zipped it up, obviously gearing up to use his speed. “Maybe you not noticed, but I’m rather quick. I meant it when I said I can take you anywhere you want..”

He closed the distance between them to kiss her again. 

“Goodnight, Vitezǎ.”

“Noapte Buna,” he smiled at the nickname, repeating the farewell in Romanian. And then he was gone.

Iskra felt the air rush from the room and with it, her slightly uplifted mood. She’d bared her heart to Pietro and now was left to deal with the fallout of having done so, alone. So she returned to the bedroom and lifted the window, sitting in front of it with her pack of cigarettes. Tucking one between her lips, she lit it and exhaled the smoke, watching it spiral up and around. Just like the smoke had risen from the reactor, settling in the lungs of those around her and squeezing hard. 

At least she’d left out the part where Pietro was not her first love. And how he probably stood a far better chance since he could run away from her. Iskra’s heart sank, remembering the way the face she’d adored had looked up to her, tears in his eyes and blood on his lips. 

She wanted to scream. If she did, no one would hear her. But the world felt so much smaller now and so she kept it in, swallowing the hurt and letting it fester in the pit of her stomach. She missed her mother and her home. Iskra stubbed out her cigarette and tossed the butt out the window. 

Pulling the blanket from the bed, she curled up on the floor and stared at the wall. The sun had all but sunk behind the trees and even though she’d slept most of the afternoon, unconsciousness swept over her swiftly and eagerly, enveloping her in nightmares. 

***

“You got to calm down, Iskra! Take a deep breath!” the voice rang out with the same clarity as it had four years prior. Hands on her arms and her hips, holding her down, but the pain was too intense and she was convulsing. 

It crept across her stomach, grasping her spine and radiating down her legs. She wanted to roll over, she remembered that. But Dimitri was adamant about her laying on her back. All at once, her muscles contracted and Iskra screamed, clawing the carpet beneath her and raking the flesh of his arm. He bit back a scream as well, blood already trickling down his arm. 

“Fuck! You’re bleeding! You need to go to the hospital!” he was shaking her now, trying to keep her conscious but the darkness was creeping at the edges of her vision. “Iskra! Talk to me!” 

“It’s… too far,” she mumbled, the tips of her fingers aching. But the sensation was lost in the agony she felt and she never had the chance to warn him of what was coming. She was right though, the hospital was at least sixty kilometers away and they didn’t have a car.

Dimitri was crying. She’d never seen him cry. His long dark hair hung in his face and his hands were covered in blood. Had she scratched him that badly? No. That was her blood…

Iskra reached out for his hand and when the flesh touched flesh, her electricity made contact with the moisture in his body. White hot light blinded her for a split second and when she could see again, Dimitri was backing away from her on his hands and knees. Well… one hand. The other was gone. His entire arm was just gone.

Blood seeped from the open joint of his shoulder and when he fell, he fell hard. 

Iskra rolled onto her side, forcing herself to her feet despite the pain. “No…” her voice was hoarse as she reached out to him. He looked up at her, fear clouding the tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

Dimitri didn’t speak. That part always troubled her the most. Even if he only spoke to curse her, she’d at least know that he died hating her for killing him. Or even hated her for involuntarily rejecting the seed he’d placed in her.  
“Dimitri, say something,” she sobbed, pulling him into her arms with trembling hands. But he was gone. Whether from shock or blood loss, it didn’t matter. His eyes were cold and glossy, looking up at her perpetually in fear. Not sorrow or anger, but fear. 

And it hurt so bad. The blood pooling between her legs and the stabbing pain paled in comparison to the hurt in her heart. 

He’d never done a thing to deserve it. He’d been good to her. Done right by her. He stole food for them and held her during the cold winters. And when her stomach had begun to swell with new life, he’d laid beside her and sang to her belly. He sang in Russian and she’d understood very little of it, but it made her laugh. He made her smile. He made her remember what it felt like to have a family.

Iskra had never considered the possibility that her body would terminate the pregnancy. Though it made perfect sense. The fact that she was able to conceive was probably a miracle in and of its own. But none of that mattered now. Dimitri was gone and so was the baby. And if her bleeding didn’t stop soon, Iskra would be dead too. 

Not surprisingly, she didn’t care. 

***

The images faded slowly. Unlike most of her nightmares where she’d wake with a start, wheezing and gasping for air but glad to be free from the horror. This was so much different. The light from the sun crept into her awareness at a snail’s pace. Iskra was still crying, her body shaking with each sob, laying on the carpet… cradled. 

No, she was being held. Strong arms… hard chest… so much warmth. The face of death melting away to reveal one of life and so much concern. An expression positively shattered with worry. 

“Are you good?” Pietro asked, looking down at her and addressing her only once her eyes finally focused. 

But Iskra couldn’t speak yet. She gasped, not understanding. She tried to push him away but he held tight, knowing that she wasn’t quite back to reality just yet. 

“It’s okay. It will be okay,” he stroked her forehead, preventing the droplets of sweat from running into her eyes. “Is good thing I decided to come early, eh?” 

Pietro didn’t know if his words were calming, or if they were even getting through to her, but he spoke anyway. “I think to myself ‘I come early today so there will be plenty of time to practice before we go to a cafe’ and then what do I see? Dragâ mea seizing on the floor. I think, did she take a drug? Did she want to die? Or is she sick? I think all sorts of things, none of them any good. But you say a man’s name. Dimitri. At first, I’m angry. Then I realize you are dreaming. And I feel powerless. If you were sick I could run to the doctor. But I can’t chase nightmares away…”

“I’m so sorry,” Iskra breathed. Her head was pounding and her mouth more dry than a desert. 

“For what?” maybe she could hear him after all.

Her face turned to his chest, breathing in the scent of life rather than the memories of death. “For this. I can still practice today. I can still go.”

Iskra tried to force herself out of Pietro’s grasp and stand but he wouldn’t let her. “Nu,” he lifted her gently, now that he was sure that moving her wouldn’t send her into another convulsion. “We won’t go anywhere until you are okay.”

Carrying her into the living room, he set her on the sofa gently. She let her head fall back, still trying desperately to blink away the images burned on the back of her eyelids. 

“I get you glass of water,” he said from the kitchen. It would take Iskra ages to get used to how quickly he moved. “And then you can tell me what you dreamed. Maybe then the demons stay away.”

“No Pietro. You don’t want to know,” Iskra shook her head, unwilling to divulge the nature of her plague. Her thoughts shifted to the graves she had to leave behind when she returned to Pripyat and she prayed that they were dug deep enough.

“I do want to know,” he handed her the glass and made sure she finished its contents. “We are in this together.”

Iskra took a deep breath and set the glass on the table. “I dreamed…” this wasn’t going to be easy so she may as well make it quick. “I dreamed of the man I killed when the baby… his baby died inside me. And I never meant to hurt him. He was trying to help me. But I was in so much pain that I didn’t see the lightning coming until it was too late. It wasn’t like the big arcs from the sky it was…. it was…”

“Molecular deconstruction,” Pietro finished for her. “Your energy, it comes from everything around you. Not inside you. It can make the molecules in things excited. They rub together, get too hot, then explode. Is not so good…”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Iskra demanded, suddenly very alert. How could he know more about her abilities than herself?

“Is time to be honest,” he offered her a tiny smile but when she didn’t return it, it fell from his lips. “Several weeks ago, I find a file. All about Romanian girl with powers like me. The part you don’t remember, when you were small? You were a test subject, Iskra. This horrible thing called HYDRA, they do this to us. I don’t know how. But the facility you were in, it got destroyed. If I had known, I would have come for you sooner. If I knew you were here. They think you died when the facility in Romania was destroyed though so they never looked for you. But the file was incomplete. They never got to really watch you manifest. So it was speculation, what you could do.”

“People made me this way?” she was shaking again, tiny sparks jumping between her fingers. But Pietro didn’t run away, despite her rage. Instead he slipped an arm around her and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“Yes. Calm down, hear me dragǎ?” his blue eyes were intense, following every movement her pupils made. “We are in this together, remember?”

“I hate them!” her voice wavered and Pietro put a hand on the back of her head to steady her. “They made me hurt everyone I loved!”

“Take deep breath,” he told her and after several moments, the sparks sputtered out. “There you go. You can’t change the past, okay? You are Iskra. No one takes that away. And you have me now. No one takes that away either.”

“I want to hurt them back,” she said, hands cupping his face and fingers curling around his neck. “I want to make them pay for what they made me into.”

“We will,” he dipped his head to kiss her lips, lingering there for a long moment. “But you have to be one hundred percent in control.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Iskra asked, her mouth still hovering over his and stealing tiny kisses when neither of them were speaking. There was no anger in her tone though.

“I just…” he closed his eyes. “I had planned to come and tell you, then just leave you to do what you wanted. But then I saw you collecting water for your little garden and you looked at me and… I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. I didn’t want the truth to hurt you. And I came back before I talked to you in the pool, just to watch. And I saw a girl who was surviving just fine, on her own. Then I kissed you, to calm you down so you wouldn’t kill me, but I wound up loving you instead. I should have told you sooner-”

“It’s alright,” Iskra cut him off, nuzzling his face with her own. His facial hair scratched her cheek but it felt nice. It reminded her she was alive and still capable of love. Leaving a trail of kisses along his jaw, she smiled, licking the taste of his sweat from her lips. “We’ll make them pay for what they did, Pietro. I’m still me. And I have you. Things are not so bad.”

“Iskra, you know you almost scared me dead back there, right?” he told her, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to give her better access to his neck. Her fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt, stretching it down as she pulled him closer. A small sigh slipped from his lips as hers explored any exposed skin they could find. 

“Why?” she asked. The heat of his body was intoxicating and she wanted to be as close to him as possible. 

“Why? I found you on the floor. I thought I maybe would lose you,” his hands played in her hair, resisting the urge to explore other parts of her. “Makes it hard to leave you every night.”

“Then stay tonight, when the sun goes down. I’m feeling a lot better, you know. You were right. It helped to tell you about my dream. And knowing the truth is… a bit empowering,” her fingers danced down his chest, darting under his belt to tease the soft skin over his hips. “Can you do something for me, Pietro?”

“Mmm… anything you want dragӑ mea,” he nearly moaned, blue eyes watching her as she tugged his hair, forcing his head to the side so she could bite his collarbone. 

“Take your shirt off,” she breathed and his body tensed against her in response. She tilted her chin up to kiss him, but he darted away from her, leaving her to brace herself on the sofa to keep from falling over. 

“Why don’t you do it?,” he stopped moving to lean against the counter, raising an eyebrow at her and grinning. “If you can catch me.”

“Oh that’s not fair!” Iskra whined, standing up and approaching him. But he just ran circles around her until she stopped trying to reach out to him and placed her hands on her hips despondently instead. 

Wrapping his arms around her from behind, Pietro whispered in her ear. “Best make quick work of it. I have a surprise for you if you can finish training today. But now you add more things to our agenda? How will we find the time?”

Iskra’s arms were immobilized at her sides so she arched her back to press her ass against his crotch. “I think we can find time, don’t you?”

“If you can catch me,” he repeated and kissed her cheek. Then he was gone, leaving an open door and a blue wisp behind him. 

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered and reached behind her head to tie her hair up in a bun. “You want to play? Fine.”  
The details of Isrka’s plan fell into place as she walked purposely down the steps. There was no point in running when she knew she didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of catching up to Pietro. But she could still give him a run for his money in other ways. 

Her fingers curled and uncurled, weaving air molecules between them until she’d built up enough energy to make the humidity around her spark. 

“Come out come out, darling Maximoff,” she sang as she crossed the threshold of the hotel’s front door. 

“You sure took your time,” Pietro called from where he leaned against a tree across the street. 

“Did I?” Lightning struck the tree but he was already gone, leaves settling in the void he’d left. But he was headed in the right direction. Small arcs of black energy herded him left, then right, and Iskra followed the path of scorched earth through the forest. 

Away from the city they went, a blur followed by atmospheric fury. But Iskra was smiling, rather enjoying their new game. Pripyat had been hers for a long while and she knew it like the back of her hand. The forest was where she hunted when the gardens died in the winters. And she was quite proficient at it. She knew where each tree was. As well as the lake. 

Pietro stopped where the water met the bank and turned to face her. In one seamless motion, he lifted his gray shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. 

“You want to go for a swim?” he asked as she approached. 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” she nodded towards the water and the rippling dark electrical currents dancing over the surface. Pietro took a step to the left but another arc stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t outrun you. But I can trap you.”

“Yes you can. I underestimated you,” he smiled warmly, waiting for her to close the distance between them then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close to kiss her. “An excellent example of control.”

“And now you can show me your control,” she pulled away from him, picking his shirt up from the grass and handing it to him. “You said we could go to the cafe today. So let’s go.”

“But you said… you…” he whined, looking at the shirt in his hand then at Iskra and back again. 

“You can be patient. Now what’s this surprise?” she traced a finger down his bare skin and watched the goosebumps rise in its wake. Pietro’s cheeks were flushed and the longing in his eyes was intense. 

“Wait here,” he said finally, pulling his shirt back on and darting away through the trees. 

Iskra sat, folding her legs beneath her in the grass. She reached out to touch the water’s surface gently. The crackling energy jumped to her fingertips, dancing between them but not grounding through her. The sensation was pleasant but after several moments, the darkness was gone, leaving the water as it once was. 

“What are you doing?” Pietro asked as he knelt beside her, watching her reflection on the water. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she never did. And each time, it startled her less.

“Nothing,” she shrugged and leaned back on her palms. He’d brought a small package with him, wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. 

“Looks as though you can dispel it. That’s useful,” he was hesitant to touch her just yet, in the event that the electricity still lingered on her skin. So instead, he sat the package between them. “This is for you.”

“What is it?” Iskra asked, tentatively lifting it from the grass. It felt soft and squishy, like a pillow. She played with the string, rubbing it between her fingertips. 

“Open it and find out, dragǎ.” Pietro laughed.

She smiled. It was a gift. Iskra hadn’t been given a gift in years. Turning the package around, she pulled the bow and watched the string fall into her lap. A corner of the paper had turned up, revealing something bright purple inside. The suspense was killing her. She tore the paper, lifting the fabric inside. 

“It’s a dress!” she stood up, letting the garment hang in front of her. Indeed it was a dress, of a beautiful airy purple hue, fading to blue at the bottom. Crocheted lace circled the bodice and accented the ends of the sleeves. It was neither long, nor short. It would likely fall to just below her knees. “It’s beautiful, Pietro. This… is really for me?”

“Who else would it be for?” he watched her from the ground, smiling wider than he ever had before. The light in her eyes was stunning and watching her twirl around with the fabric in her hands made a strange corner of his heart beat just a little faster. “It’s really not much. I just saw it and thought you’d look nice in it. And my… I was told that pretty girls like wearing pretty things when they’re taken on dates.”

Iskra halted her gleeful dance, clutching the dress to her chest. A date? Taking her to the cafe was supposed to be a date? 

Look at what you’ve done to me…  
She set the lovely thing in her hands back into the paper wrapping and tackled Pietro before she could think better of the action. Her arms flew around his neck, pushing him to lay back in the grass. He laughed again, thankfully reacting quickly enough to catch her. 

He frequently felt as though the rest of the world moved too slow, but being able to catch Iskra when she dove from standing height straight into his lap made the latency worthwhile. 

“Thankyousomuch,” her words were muffled against his chest. 

“You’re welcome dragǎ mea, but I have something else,” Pietro shifted her weight to the side so that he could reach his hand into his pocket. “Close your eyes. And get off of me a second, yeah?” 

Iskra reluctantly obeyed, swinging her leg over him to sit on the hard ground once more. She felt him moving around her neck. Something small rested against her chest. A necklace?

“Okay. Open them,” he whispered. Iskra lifted the object around her neck to get a better look at it. It was a light blue gem, set in silver. Dangling from the bottom of the setting was a tiny bell. Iskra shook it and it rang softly. Simple but absolutely stunning. “It was my mothers. And now it’s yours.”

“Pietro… are you sure? If it was your mother’s, it must be special to you,” her voice was barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted back to him, but he was surprisingly cavalier. Just smiling knowingly and nodding. 

“And now you are special to me. It will look nice with the dress,” he said plainly, as though he was just giving her any object. Not a piece of his family… a piece of his heart. “And when I can’t be with you and you are lonely, you can ring the bell. Maybe it will help keep the nightmares away.”

“Fuck… I don’t know what to say,” tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the pendant in her palm. “Thank you…”

“It’s no big thing. It bothered me when I told you I can’t chase away what haunts your dreams. But nothing outruns me,” he explained, cupping her hand and the pendant in his own. 

His words hung in the air, heavy and full of unspoken meaning. Maybe he really could chase away her demons. He’d already brought life to her days, it stood to reason the nights wouldn’t be quite so dark either. Or at least, they didn’t have to be. 

“You’re so wonderful,” she muttered, but the smile faded from his lips and he hung his head slightly. 

“There is still much that you don’t know,” he sighed. “When the time comes that you do know, you can tell me if you still think that.”

“I will,” she assured him, just like he’d assured her when she questioned whether his admission of love was just drunk ramblings.

***

The world flew past her with such speed that after a fraction of a second, Iskra resigned to just keeping her eyes closed and burying her face against Pietro’s chest as he ran. Everything registered as only blurs of color anyway. He reached up to stabilize her neck, protecting her from the whiplash. Her ears were ringing so she covered them with her hands, willing the experience to be over quickly. Which it was. 

When Pietro stopped moving, he sunk to his knees, setting her on soft earth. 

“Don’t try to move just yet,” he told her. “First time can make you sick.”

“How many people do you ferry around like this?” she demanded, fighting the urge to vomit as her vision spun. 

“Not many,” he laughed, sitting beside her and gently stroking her back. “It gets easier. I stopped outside town so you can take as long as you need.”

Iskra rubbed her temples, looking around her. They weren’t far off from civilization at all. It appeared as though they may have stopped in what had once been a pasture, but there were no fences or livestock any longer. Several yards away, a run down looking house sat atop a hill and just beyond it, a winding road led into a small outcropping of buildings. 

“We start small. This place was heavily impacted by the disaster so most homes and businesses have long since gone. But some people have remained,” Pietro explained. “And there is a nice cafe that serves a mean cup of coffee. Are you good now?”

“I think so,” she nodded, pushing herself to her feet and brushing bits of grass from the back of her new dress. She still felt a little disoriented but the nausea had faded.

“Next time, I won’t go so easy on you,” Pietro grinned and stood as well, motioning for her to follow him. 

It must be excruciating for him to walk at a normal pace, Iskra decided as she tried to keep pace with his stride. His perception of the world had to be so different yet he slowed down for her. It meant a lot, whether she knew how to show it or not. 

But his walking speed was still far faster than she was used to and she practically had to run, tripping over her boots, to keep up with him. She was thankful that he hadn’t brought her a pair of heels to match the outfit, or he’d be carrying her the entire way. 

“So I told you all about my life,” Iskra chirped, hopping up onto the curb as they reached the cracked road. “When are you going to tell me about yours?”

“What’s to know?” he shrugged, leading her up onto the sidewalk to avoid the few cars that still drove along the street. His hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket, he looked over his shoulder at her. “You can ask, but I can’t promise I will tell you everything.”

What are you protecting?

Iskra wasn’t sure if the comment offended her or not, so she let it roll off. He must have his reasons for not wanting to be completely open. Right? She knew so little of how people interacted these days, maybe her open personality was the exception, not the rule. 

“Do you remember anything about HYDRA…? About what they did or…?” The question probably wasn’t one he wanted to answer, but she had to know. 

“Da,” Pietro sighed, his body visibly tensing as he walked. “I was a teenager when HYDRA took me. My home was destroyed and I had no where to go. They said that they would help me, but they didn’t. They kept me in a cell, like a prison, and they experimented on me. I had this ability before that though. I couldn’t run for as long or as fast though. They say some of us have an extra gene or something. Then they isolate it and turn us into weapons.”

“So I might have wound up being this way even without them?” Iskra looked up at him, but Pietro’s eyes were glassy with images of the past. After a moment, he nodded. “How did you get away?”

“I broke out. I didn’t want to be a tool of war. I’ve seen enough of that,” he looked away. “How do you like your coffee? I will order it for you. So you don’t have to talk to people if you don’t want to.” 

They’d stopped outside a small strip of shops, one of them with several tables beneath an awning. A customer exited the store and Iskra took a step back, but Pietro caught her wrist in his hand. “It’s alright,” he told her. 

“One sugar and just a splash of cream,” she said softly, letting him lead her inside.

The smell of fresh coffee was overwhelming and it made her mouth water. The only coffee she’d had recently was far past its sell by date and tasted like soot. 

She stood behind him while he told their order to the woman behind the corner. To an outside observer, Iskra probably just looked shy. Which wasn’t far off from the truth, but being around anyone she didn’t know on a personal level was extremely overstimulating. She wasn’t as anxious as she thought she’d be though. 

Small victories. 

Pietro took their cups and headed back towards the door, motioning for her to follow. “Let’s sit outside so you can watch the people,” he said, holding the door with his elbow so she could walk out before him. 

Iskra took a seat in one of the metal chairs beneath the awning, backing herself up against the wall. This way, no one could startle her and she had a good view of everyone entering or exiting the shop, as well as those walking down the sidewalk. Pietro pushed her coffee towards her. 

“Try it,” he smiled. “Is not so bad here, right?”

“No, this is nice,” Iskra agreed and took a sip from the hot paper cup. It was worlds better than the piss water she called coffee in Pripyat. “It’s good. Very good.”

“You think maybe leaving will be easier?” he asked, sipping his own drink as he leaned back in his seat.

“Yes. Not just yet, but soon,” she returned his smile, watching as a couple strolled down the street, hand in hand. They looked happy. Laughing and speaking to one another in Ukrainian. “Where will I go though?”

“You can stay with me in Bucharest. I have a room mate… but I can find room,” a blush spread across Pietro’s cheeks, his jaw tightening. “The apartment isn’t nice, but you could stay as long as you like.”

“You run all the way from Bucharest? Every day?” Iskra’s eyes widened. That was at least a fifteen hour drive. “How long does it take you?”

“Not long, but if you want to, we can take a train so that you don’t get sick,” he offered, not understanding that her amazement was at his willingness to traverse countries for her daily. Even if it only took him moments, it must still be hard on him physically. “It takes a few minutes, from my home. It’s not bad. But the train is okay too.”

“Either way, Pietro,” Iskra tucked her hair behind her ear, breathing in the steam from her coffee. It would be nice to leave and live a real life. But it won’t be easy. She looked up as a car full of people drove past. Someone hung out the window and whistled at her. Immediately, she looked down and away. 

Pietro stood, almost knocking his chair backwards. “Voi lovi cu piciorul fundul!” he shouted. It was obvious that he wanted to chase after them but he sighed and offered his hand to Iskra instead. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” he said, a vein in his temple pulsing with anger. Iskra got the impression that her reaction was not why he wanted to go. Until that moment, she’d been a glass pet in a glass cage. Fragile and belonging to Pietro and Pietro alone. But the outside world meant that she would have to interact with others, in a myriad of different ways. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to let that happen yet. 

“I’m fine,” she told him anyway, but he shook his head. Slowly, she stood. Iskra wasn’t ready to go, and she wasn’t ready for the trip back but she didn’t want to make him angrier. 

“You can finish your coffee on the walk back to the field,” he said, taking her by the hand rather possessively. “No sense in wasting it.”

For awhile, Iskra didn’t speak. She wanted to wait for him to cool off. Tossing her empty cup into a trash can as they walked, she tightened her grip on his hand before talking. 

“They didn’t upset me that much, you know,” she said softly. They’d just crossed the threshold back into the grassy pasture and Iskra stopped walking, tugging on his arm to make him face her. “Just… thank you for bringing me here and buying me coffee. But you don’t have to stick up for me or anything…”

“You don’t understand,” he told her, taking her by the shoulders and looking down at her. “But you should. People are not inherently good, Iskra. People can hurt you. They will hurt you.”

“But those guys were just being ignorant,” she protested. “I’m not saying I like that kind of attention but it seemed harmless.”

“It might now, but you can’t just accept that kind of thing,” Pietro’s voice was biting. “I have to protect you. Keep you safe. I love you… You’re mine.”

He was angry but a small part of him seemed lost… vulnerable. Iskra sighed and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Yeah, I am. And I know you will, Pietro.”

His hands ran up her back slowly, only stopping to lift her chin so that he could kiss her. “I’m no good at sharing,” he said softly and picked her up. “Close your eyes. This time will be easier.”

And it was. Iskra’s stomach protested far less and she didn’t feel the need to sit down when he finally stopped moving outside the hotel. He still steadied her until he was sure that she wouldn’t topple over or vomit though. 

“You don’t have to share,” she told him, picking up the conversation where they’d left off in town. “I don’t so much like people. But I like you.”

“Oh, you just like me?” Pietro put a hand over his heart and stuck his lower lip out. “You wound me!”

“Shut up,” Iskra rolled her eyes, punching his shoulder playfully. But he caught her wrist again and pulled her close to catch her lips with his own. His teeth bit her slightly, making her knees weak. His hand snaked around her waist and grasped the fabric of her dress. 

“I’m serious, dragǎ,” he purred, mouth moving to her neck and shoulder. “You’re intoxicating and I want you all to myself.”

Iskra writhed out of his grasp, taking several steps backwards but grinning devilishly the entire way. “You can have me,” she told him as she lifted her dress up over her head and tossed it onto the steps of the hotel. One of the benefits of an abandoned city was that there weren’t really any societal norms regarding nudity. “If you can catch me… but you have to give me a head start.”

Pietro’s eyes lit up watching her undress. A head start wouldn’t help her any and they both knew it. But the fun was in pretending that it might. He bit his lip, eyeing her from head to boots. 

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be mine if I catch you?”

Iskra nodded, then turned on her heels and bolted for the front door of the hotel. She made it through the threshold and lobby and up the first flight of steps before Pietro caught up. One arm hooked her waist, spinning her around as he pinned her to the wall. 

“I win,” he boasted, but she was already preoccupied with pulling his jacket and shirt off. Of course he won. There was never any contest. But Iskra knew he’d never resist a challenge. 

Pietro’s head dipped to lav his tongue across her nipple. The bell on her pendant rang as she shifted her body against him. “So you’re mine now.” It wasn’t a question. More a statement that begged for her agreement. 

“Yes,” Iskra moaned, both to his statement as well as his action. “Though you’ve been calling me dragǎ mea for days now.”

Her hands knotted into his silver hair, trying desperately to get him to lift his head so that she could kiss him. But he refused, and he was much stronger. “Yes but I want you to say that you’re mine.”

“I’m your what? Your girlfriend? Your lover? Your friend?” Iskra laughed as she fumbled with his belt. He was making it very difficult to concentrate on anything. 

“Yes, all of that. Everything,” he finally looked up at her, then kissed her roughly. His hand darted to the back of her head to keep it from smacking into the wall behind her. With the other, he pulled his pants off the rest of the way. 

Iskra’s hips rolled against him and he responded by picking her up quickly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders for support. It was amazing how one movement could be quicker than her eyes could see and the next could be gentle and slow. 

“Don’t you think we should go upstairs?” she asked, a tiny arc of lightning jumping from her fingertip to a nearby light fixture involuntarily. The ancient light bulb glowed for a moment then shattered. “Sorry about that…”

“Upstairs? Why?” Pietro’s voice was low. He completely disregarded the light bulb, far more concerned with holding her hips still so that he could push himself inside her. Iskra moaned, her head falling back against the wall. Her nails bit into his shoulders and her legs tightened around his waist. “Right here is fine. We may as well make love on everything in Pripyat before you leave forever.”

He did have a point. But this time he seemed a little bit less willing to give her control. His pace was so quick that Iskra’s spine was beginning to rub raw on the wall. She didn’t care though. One hand knotted in his hair, she bent her neck to kiss him. 

When she was beginning to actually feel the pain in her back, Pietro pulled out of her, setting her down. Iskra opened her mouth to ask why he stopped, but he darted behind her, bending her over the railing. His lips grazed the abrasions on her skin, blowing on them gently as he entered her once again. 

Iskra called out in pure ecstasy and latched onto the railing. Thankfully, she had learned a fair amount of control. If not for that, the iron banister would likely be buzzing with electrical current. He slid in and out of her, harder with each thrust, very nearly making her scream.

Pietro grasped her hair, pulling her head back so that he could whisper in her ear. “You are my everything,” his free hand wrapped around the base her throat. Not squeezing, not hurting her. Just resting there. Iskra pushed herself back against him, one leg wrapping around his to give her enough leverage to reclaim some control. Her body moved against him, forcing his cock deep inside her. His hand tightened around her throat slightly and Iskra moaned.  
Just as she thought she might succumb to the pressure building in her core, Pietro moved her once again. He pulled her back to standing, then used a foot to knock her off balance. He caught her before she fell and lowered her gently to the cement floor, sliding his jacket beneath her to protect her bare skin from the roughness. All of this happened more quickly than Iskra could comprehend. Her brain processed it as falling and her body tensed but once she realized that she was safe and he was covering every inch of her in kisses, she relaxed. 

“Pietro,” she breathed and he looked up from her hips, raising an eyebrow at her and grinning. “Te iubesc.” 

“Si eu te iubesc,” his grin widened, lips parting slightly. “Atâta...”

Pietro slid his arms under her, forcing her to arch her back as he pulled her close. This time, when he pushed himself into her, he did it slowly and purposefully. With each thrust, he kissed her tenderly. His muscles glistened with sweat and tensed with the effort it took not to come each time she moaned his name in his ear. 

But Iskra lacked the stamina and was soon shuddering beneath him, panting and whimpering as her orgasm shook her to her core. 

“Aw dragǎ, I was having such a good time fucking you lovingly,” Pietro pouted and chuckled at her, all blushing and clamoring to cling to him. But as her body tightened and released around him, he couldn’t help but give in to his climax as well. 

“I can’t believe what you’ve become,” he admitted in barely a whisper as he wrapped her in his jacket and then his arms. 

“I could say the same of you,” Iskra sighed, endlessly pleased to be so immersed in him. After a few moments to catch his breath, Pietro picked her up and carried her to her room. Short distances didn’t seem to affect her in the way that miles did. It was just like blinking and being in a completely different location. 

He laid her gently on her bed and curled around her. “You know the drill. I can stay until you fall asleep,” he said, kissing her cheek. His facial hair tickled her face and she swatted at him weakly. But he didn’t move, he just kissed her again.

“I don’t want you to go,” Iskra mumbled and shook her pendant, the sound of the bell echoing against the dingy walls of the hotel. 

Pietro sighed. “I don’t want to go either. But I have to. I’ll leave my jacket if you like, so you know I come back tomorrow.”

She pulled the fabric around her, breathing in the musky smell of his sweat and cologne. It probably would help her sleep, and it was soft. She’d grown so accustomed to seeing him wear the black jacket with white arrow patterns down the sleeves that it would be strange to greet him in the afternoon without it.

“Soon. I want to leave this place soon,” Iskra told him, taking his hand and pulling his arm over her. 

“You will,” he whispered, but she was already asleep. 

Iskra woke sometime not long after she’d drifted off to see Pietro moving about the room like a hummingbird. He hung up her dress and pulled the blanket up around her shoulder then bent to brush her hair from her face and kiss her forehead. She didn’t move until he was gone. Her hand encircled her pendant, holding it tightly as sleep washed over her once more. 

***

“Trezește-te, curvă.” 

It was a woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. A dream? 

Iskra opened her eyes just enough to see the pink and orange light from the sunrise flooding her room. The light became more red and the blanket was suddenly torn away from her. 

“Trezește-te!” 

Iskra sat up quickly, wrapping Pietro’s jacket around her nude form and backing up against the headboard. 

“Who the fuck are you?” She demanded as the smell of ozone poured into the air and her fingertips began to crackle. 

“Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you?” the girl at the foot of the bed was at least a few inches shorter than Iskra but her the anger on her face made her seem eight feet tall. A red mist circled her hands, making her long auburn hair seem to float in the breeze. “And why the fuck are you wearing my brother’s clothes?”

“Your brother?” Iskra looked from the girl, who’s eyes were glowing the same hue as her hands, to the track jacket around her shoulders. “Pietro?” 

“Who else, slut? Cover yourself,” The mist spread to the blanket on the floor, picking it up and tossing it back onto the bed. “Let me guess, he never told you about his twin sister, Wanda?”

“Pietro’s… sister… You’re enhanced too?” Iskra scrambled for the blanket, eager to hide her body from this… intruder. “I’m not a slut, bitch!”

Lightning jumped from her hand to the light fixture over Wanda’s head, severing the chain and letting the lamp fall. But the rest mist caught it, tossing it aside like a toy. “So this is where he’d been running off to every day… Iskra Dimir. The electric lady, eh? Hydra got their fingers into you long before my brother did, didn’t they?”

Iskra crawled to the edge of the bed, grasping a pair of jeans off of the floor and putting them on under the blanket. “Look, Wanda. I’m sorry if your brother hasn’t been spending much time with you recently. But he helped me out a lot, okay? Can’t you understand how it feels to be alone and scared and not know what you are?” 

Wanda laughed. Unlike her brother’s, the sound was blood curdling. She took a step towards Isrka and reached out to her, touching her temple slightly. “Oh I know. Take a peek.”

The room melted away, singed around the edges with red mist. And suddenly, Iskra was a fly on the wall in a prison cell, watching two figures. Wanda and Pietro. Both of them were dressed in stained gray uniforms, their faces smudged with filth. Pietro’s body twisted in inhuman ways, seizing against the wall pathetically, his limbs a blue blur. He cried out in pain and Wanda shrieked from the opposite side of the bars. Before her were several blocks, levitating a few feet off the ground enveloped in red mist. As she screamed, they shattered, her eyes rolling back in her skull. 

As quickly as it had come, the image was gone, replaced once more by the hotel suite. 

“You see? No one takes us away from one another,” Wanda sneered. “You don’t deserve my brother. We’ve been through hell together, spent every moment together. Then you come along and suddenly he’s gone seven hours a day and comes home smelling like storms and sex. Well I have news for you. You think you’re so special, electric lady? You’re not. I could crush you-”

Wanda had begun to pace the room, levitating objects then destroying them. She’d started towards Iskra where she still sat, huddled on the bed, but something made her stop suddenly. 

The air in the room had shifted. Iskra had initially assumed it was the combined effect of her atmospheric influence and Wanda telepathically pulverizing things into dust. But no, there was a breeze. A displacement in the air. 

Pietro.

“Wanda! What have you done?” He pushed her out of the way as he rushed to the window, yanking the curtains open just in time for something to fall from the sky. The ground shook, cracks forming in the walls of the room. “You’ve led them here?”

The low drone of an aircraft filled the sky and the ground shook again. This time, chunks of plaster fell from the walls and Iskra leapt from the bed to look out the window with Pietro.

They were missiles.

Someone was firing missiles at Pripyat. 

“No!” Wanda howled. “Not on purpose! Pietro!”

“How stupid can you be!?” he shouted, burying his face in his hands. “You risk her life, your own life, just to come here and call her names? You’ve brought HYDRA straight here. They want their weapon back, Wanda! You have to make this right!”

Tears welled in Iskra’s eyes, watching the twins argue. She was going to die here, just like she should have when the reactor blew. Pripyat had only let her borrow those years of her life, and now it wanted them back. She refused to believe it was Wanda’s fault, even if she had called her a whore. 

She sunk to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. Resting her forehead against them, she hid her face from the horrors unfolding before her. Evidently, the aircraft had targeted the main city first, but if it had any sort of infrared, it would see their heat signatures and turn the missiles towards the hotel. The air rushed out of the room and Iskra looked up. 

Pietro was kneeling in front of her. Wanda was gone. 

“I’m sorry about this, but you need to listen to me very carefully,” he told her. “We’re going to get out of this. Pay no mind to Wanda. She gets in peoples heads. It’s what she does. But right now, HYDRA is going to blow up the city so we have to go. I’m going to take you outside and I need you to concentrate. Right now there is only one jet. Wanda is going to hold them off so I can get you to safety.”

“But-” Iskra protested. Pietro shook his head. 

“Wanda will be fine. We’re twins. I know this,” he held his hand out, and Iskra took it. As he picked her up, she closed her eyes, blocking out the situation and trying not to hyperventilate. 

She only opened them once, before Pietro had reached his top speed. She looked over his shoulder and saw Wanda outside the hotel, hurling entire trees at the aircraft. 

Wanda Maximoff. Pietro’s twin. The girl who’d called Iskra a slut and led HYDRA to her home, all within ten minutes of meeting her. But she couldn’t leave her to fight alone. So Iskra focused and cleared her mind. Following the path of molecules, she found the passengers of the jet. Two males. One in his twenties, the other in his early thirties. One was piloting while the other controlled the weapons. Isolating the particles in the gunman’s brain, Iskra willed them to vibrate, rubbing against one another until the friction became too great. Then the pilot. 

She couldn’t have understood the effects of her power from so far away, but it was quick and it was effective. When the gunman began to scream, the pilot looked over his shoulder to see blood pouring from his comrade’s nose. Catastrophic cerebral hemorrhaging in a matter of seconds. They were both dead before the plane ever struck the ground.

Which gave Wanda a running head start before the second jet would show up to drop the payload that would level Pripyat. 

***


End file.
